


A Family Affair

by remedialpotions



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family Estrangement, Family Issues, Gen, Half Blood Prince Missing Moments, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:34:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22738867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remedialpotions/pseuds/remedialpotions
Summary: Turns out, Bill does care about the guest list for his wedding.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63





	A Family Affair

“Mum,” said Bill, frowning at the scroll of parchment before him, “this is way too many people.”

“We’ll manage,” replied Mum as she inked yet another name onto the list. “Besides, you know how Aunt Muriel gets. If we leave anyone off the list, we’ll be hearing about it for years-“

“I know, I know, but come on.” Bill placed a finger next to one of the names, careful not to smudge it. “Thomas Prewett? Have I ever even met him?”

“Don’t worry about him, he’s that second cousin of mine-“

“Second cousin?!” Bill repeated. “Why are your _second cousins_ invited to _my_ wedding?”

“It’s what’s polite,” stated Mum in that tone she always took when she wanted him to stop arguing. “But you don’t have to worry about him, he’s the one who’s an accountant now, he’s not going to come.”

“Then why bother?”

“I would think you’d want your family there.”

Bill slouched down, swinging one leg up to prop his foot on the seat of a chair opposite him. He had promised Fleur that he would take on more of these wedding-related negotiations - and really he was happy to do it, if it made her happy - but they were sapping his strength. 

“I do,” he said evenly. “But that means my actual family, not second cousins of yours that I’ve never met.”

“I’m sure they all came to see you when you were born-“

“Oh, _well_.” Bill couldn’t stop himself rolling his eyes. “That changes everything.”

Mum’s lips tightened together. “I just think it would be nice - Fleur’s list doesn’t have many people on it-“

“Right, because her family are all in France-“ Bill broke off, shaking his head. “We just hoped we could keep the wedding a bit smaller, that’s all. Less people you’ll have to cook for-“

Her hand swatted the back of his. “Don’t be silly, it isn’t a problem at all. Now, here.” She placed a stack of cream-colored envelopes and a bottle of shimmering green ink in front of him. The fancy ink - the _special occasion_ ink. “Why don’t we start addressing the ones we know are going out? We can quibble over second cousins later.”

“All right,” Bill conceded as he reached for a quill. “Have you got addresses?”

Another scroll of parchment was unfurled in front of him. Bill leaned forward to read the name at the top and promptly, to his mum’s chagrin, burst out laughing.

“Charlie?!” he exclaimed. “What am I sending an invitation to Charlie for? He’s my best man, I think he’s aware of the wedding.”

“It’s what’s proper,” said Mum, picking up her own quill. “But if you’re going to put up a fuss, then that’s fine. You can start with - with Percy.”

And he didn’t miss the way her voice went brittle as she spoke his name, like all the air had left her lungs. The air left the room, certainly; any lingering laughter died on Bill’s lips.

“Percy,” he said slowly. “You’re joking.”

Silence fell as Mum tucked an invitation carefully into an envelope, eyes fixed on her work. “He’s your brother.”

Bill let out a sharp breath through his nose.

Yes. Strictly speaking, he and Percy had the same parents, which made them brothers. But Bill also thought that any proper brother of his wouldn’t have spoken to Dad the way Percy had, or made Mum cry for an entire summer. He wouldn’t have shown up - on Christmas, of all days - as some sort of minion for the Ministry.

“He isn’t going to come,” said Bill gently as his mother began inscribing Xenophilius Lovegood’s name onto an envelope, her jaw stubbornly set. 

“You don’t know that.”

“I…” Bill sighed again. “I do know that, Mum. Even if we - even if you invite him, he’s not going to come.”

“It’s your wedding, dear,” she said, setting the envelope aside. “You said you wanted your family to be there.”

“Right, but…” Bill paused, but Mum still wasn’t looking at him. “I don’t want him there.”

Bill had not imagined that he might care this much about the guest list - though he was quickly learning that the wedding was about everyone _but_ him and Fleur - but the notion was leaving him as swiftly as it had come. He could not have cared less if Thomas Prewett showed up with his Muggle calculator, or if the party was so vast and packed with quasi-strangers that it spilled out of the tent and stretched all the way to Exeter.

But Percy. Percy was different.

His mum’s second cousins had never mattered to him. He had not taught them to ride a broom, or helped them with maths homework at the kitchen table, or gotten them drunk for the first time on the family trip to Egypt. They had not made his fists tremble with rage and frustration, or made his stomach flip from the very thought of them. To Bill, they were inconsequential. They did not matter.

But Percy mattered. And so Bill could not have him there. Not like this.

“Now you listen here,” said Mum, leaning toward him, her quaking voice low and dangerous. “Your father and I are hosting this wedding, and we’ll decide who is or isn’t welcome in our home. Percy is your brother, and this is a family event, and _he is our family._ Do you understand?”

She stood so suddenly that it jostled the table, causing the parchment to roll back into itself, and started toward the stairs. 

“Mum,” Bill called after her, desperate for her to see reason. “Mum, just listen-“

A door slammed shut, then, and silence fell. 

Bill slumped forward, pinching the bridge of his nose, and contented himself with the thought that Fleur probably wouldn’t have fared any better.

•••

London was hot. The whole south of England was hot - Percy was not unaccustomed to this - but at least in Devon, there had been fresh air, space and room to breathe. In London, the skyscrapers seemed to trap everything in so that the city itself became stuffy, like a locked room with no windows. The heat and humidity just grew and built upon itself until it became unbearable. 

Or maybe he just missed home.

But he didn’t. Why would he, when his long-overdue departure had been the catalyst for his meteoric rise to success at the Ministry? He had remained Junior Undersecretary to the Minister even through an administration change, which he knew was almost unheard of. It spoke to his talent, really. To his hard work. It proved that if he threw himself wholeheartedly into it, and dedicated all of his time and energy into being the best employee he could be, that all of his sacrifices would be worth it. 

All of them.

Which was why, even though it had no business being so hot in early June, he had parked himself at the desk in his Central London flat. There was always something he could work on, always some way to do more. His plan, as it had been for the past two years, was to throw himself so fully into his work that he had no time or headspace for anything else.

Still, though. It was getting rather uncomfortable in the flat.

He stood, using the back of his hand to brush sweat from his forehead, and walked over to the window. It didn’t open much, just a small gap at the bottom, and there was hardly a breeze anyway. Nothing like the Burrow, where the windows opened wide and let the wind rush in and topple everything over.

It had always been difficult to get any work done like that.

No sooner had Percy sat back down, however, than a tawny owl flew in through the window he’d just opened with a large envelope clamped in its beak. How odd, Percy thought, to receive an owl on the weekend. Most Ministry correspondence was kept strictly to business hours.

As Percy took the envelope from the owl, he caught a glimpse of the penmanship on the front and felt his stomach drop. It was his mother’s writing. Countless scenarios flooded his mind, none of them cheerful; the weekly letters had stopped over a year ago, and now she never wrote him unless it was bad news.

He slid a finger under the flap and broke the wax seal, then drew a thick piece of parchment from inside. His eyes scanned the words, pressed into the page in elegant script. 

_M. & Mme. Alexandre Delacour _

_and_

_Mr & Mrs Arthur Weasley _

_request the pleasure of your company at the marriage of their children_

_Fleur_

_and_

_William_

_on Friday, the first of August..._

Percy stopped reading; his hands were shaking too much. He recalled seeing Fleur Delacour at the kitchen table, back on Christmas, but he hadn’t been aware of this most recent development. To think that his eldest brother was betrothed, and he hadn’t even known… he supposed he must have been too busy cleaning mashed parsnips from his glasses to notice an engagement ring.

But why had he received an invitation? The last time he had been to the Burrow, they had made their position quite plain. Ginny and the twins, in particular, had behaved quite outlandishly - and he, Percy, had been on official business with the Minister, so it wasn’t as if they should have taken his presence personally. 

Perhaps it was just proper etiquette. People always cast a wide net when sending wedding invitations, and they never expected absolutely everyone to attend. Good manners and tradition was all it was. He wasn’t really meant to attend.

Yes, that would be it, he decided, walking slowly back to his desk. Just good manners, the way they would probably also invite that second cousin of his mother’s who worked as an accountant, and then not notice whether he was there or not.

Percy gave one last look at the invitation, then dropped it into the small metal bin under his desk. 

Then he set back to work. 


End file.
